ATF: Responsibility
by MooseTV
Summary: Chris knocked out Ezra, and thinks about the consequences of his action.


Chris Larabee sat in his office and stared at the screen of his computer with a blank expressionDisclaimer:   
The Magnificent Seven are owned by MGM, TNN, and Trilogy/Mirsch and were used   
without prior permission. The ATF universe was created by Mog.  
  
Comments: I'm not a native English speaker, so please humour my insufficient   
language skills. Feedback (especially the good ol' ritual slaughter of the   
editor's chicken type of feedback) is highly appreciated, email   
lee_@firemail.de.  
  
ATF: Responsibility  
By Birgit "Lee" Kohls (May 2001)  
  
  
  
  
  
Chris Larabee sat in his office and stared at the screen of his computer with a   
blank expression. He didn't see the words of the transfer request he had just   
written. How could this have happened? How could he have lost it like that and   
knocked out one of his own team?  
Not that Standish hadn't deserved it, he had been practically begging for it and   
testing his limits to the full. Only heaven knew what was driving the stubborn   
Southerner lately.   
But still, it was no excuse. After all, Chris Larabee was an experienced team   
leader and as such, he had not just received considerable training in how to   
handle a team – even if it was the loony bunch called Team 7. And so far,   
everything had worked fine, as it was to be expected with the six men. No, Chris   
couldn't blame them, he knew what he had been asking in when he had put this   
team together.   
The team wasn't the problem. He was. He had to admit that, after barely eight   
months, he had proven himself incapable of handling this group that he had   
picked out single handed. The elite team, the best of the best. Unfortunately,   
he had overestimated his own mental strength and underestimated the amount of   
leadership abilities that he was required to produce on a daily base. Everything   
with these men was a fight, nothing had come easy, well, almost nothing. This   
just had been the last straw in a long series of events. Fool he had been, he   
seriously had thought he'd still had it in him to do the job after the death of   
his wife and little son almost years ago. He should have known better. The   
infamous Chris Larabee was losing his edge and had to resort to hitting a team   
member to keep him in check. He shook his head in dismay.  
How did this happen? When did this happen? When had he begun to lose that   
authority, the power to keep the others in place by the sheer intimidation he   
was able to administer with a stare, or a bellowed order? When did the body   
language stop working and he was no longer taken serious? When did he lose their   
respect?  
Chris sighed heavily. No, he hadn't lost their respect, at least he hoped not.   
But then, his decisions had been questioned a lot lately, which was a bad sign   
in itself. While Chris valued the others' input on the cases they were working   
on, he still carried the responsibility, and it was his command they were   
supposed to follow. This had never been a problem, nor a question.  
Then Ezra Standish had happened. Sure, the smart undercover agent had been   
constantly fighting and struggling since the very beginning if he felt that his   
independence was at stake. Chris had gotten used to it, more or less, and he had   
thought that the two of them had reached an understanding of sorts. But by   
giving Ezra some leeway, the rest of the team had felt encouraged to test the   
limits of their liberties. Things had been going straight downhill from there,   
he realized. Until finally he had snapped at an especially low blow remark of   
Ezra that came as reply to the order that Chris had given, and left the younger   
man sitting dizzy on the floor with a shiner on his left eye. And the rest of   
the team had stared at the two as if they had just seen something straight out   
of a horror movie. It had taken Chris a moment to get his anger under control,   
he had muttered a quick apology to Standish and then had searched refugee in his   
office. He had sat in his office almost an hour before he couldn't stand it any   
longer and went home early. That was two days ago, and so far no one had dared   
to approach him about it. Not even J.D. or Vin. Or Buck, for the matter. As if   
they were afraid of who'd be the next to fall victim to him. And Ezra… well,   
Ezra had been unusually quiet and even more unusually punctual as if to placate   
him.  
Larabee groaned in frustration. He felt ashamed for what he had done, but he   
also knew that he couldn't take the blow back. Chris shuddered as he considered   
the possible consequences of his act. Though it was more than unlikely that Ezra   
would file a complaint against his superior, there was a pretty good chance that   
the delicate fabric that held the team together had suffered a damage that would   
not be easily repaired.   
I'm a loose cannon. The thought that had been mulling through his mind ever   
since the incident was there again. How could I let this happen?  
Could he still trust himself not to lash out again? Could he still face the men   
outside as if nothing had happened? He remembered their expressions, the sudden   
surge of adrenalin when the tension in the conference room had become almost   
touchable after Ezra went down. No, Chris decided, there was no say when he'd   
lose self-control the next time. And there was no say to what injuries he might   
inflict then. Two days ago, it had been a shiner and the next time? A bloody   
nose? A split lip? Broken ribs? He shuddered, understanding that he had crossed   
a borderline when beating one of his team. It was time to take responsibility   
for his action and do what would be best for the team and himself – take a long   
vacation and then put in for a transfer. Maybe a desk job.   
Chris' stomach churned on the thought of leaving the team – his newfound family,   
but it would be necessary, for the sake of them all.   
A shy knock on the door jerked him from his thoughts. Must be Nathan, he mused.   
Only Jackson had the decency to knock. Chris grimaced, the open lack of manners   
from the others was just another mark on the issue. He knew that he couldn't   
hide in his office forever, and now that he had made a decision, he had found   
the strength to face the others, finally.   
"Come in."  
The door slowly opened and Ezra carefully poked his head through the space to   
check the situation, then walked into the room and silently closed the door   
behind him after the rest of the team had come in. Chris watched the undercover   
agent's entrance with a certain amusement and surprise – Standish acted like he   
was a little boy who had been caught with his fingers in the cookie jar and was   
now about to face his daddy. He even had a guilty expression on his face, as far   
as the half-shut left eye allowed it. Very un-ezraish, Larabee thought and   
wondered what the man was up to now.   
Especially considering that Standish had the entire team in tow. This was   
definitely not normal. The other five lined up behind the usually suave   
Southerner and Chris didn't fail to notice the slight nudge that Josiah gave   
Ezra. Standish shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, his eyes avoiding   
Chris' inquiring look. Larabee realized that Ezra wanted to apologize and   
explain himself.   
"Mr. Larabee… Chris…" Ezra fought with his nervousness and own feelings of   
guilt, but Chris cut him off.  
"Ezra… I'm sorry that I hit you. You're a pain in the ass, but… It wasn't   
supposed to happen, and I promise you that it will not happen again."  
"But… it's not your fault. I provoked you, Chris. I'm the one who has to   
apologize, not you," Standish tried his best to hid his complete and utter   
surprise. He had already been on the receiving end of his colleagues' comments   
and 'helpful' suggestions after the first shock over the outburst had eased off.   
  
The entire team was in a state of denial over what had happened. Up to that   
fateful moment, the worst physical intimidation had been that their leader had   
dragged Ezra out of his chair by the lapels. But now, they all just wished to   
turn back time and make things undone.   
"It's not that simple, Ezra. If the situation was different, I'd not waste any   
thought on that shiner I gave you. You surely earned it. But this is not private   
life, this is the job. I'm the one in charge. I'm responsible for all of you –   
for your safety and well being. There are regulations for a reason, and you all   
know what the standard procedure is in such a case." Larabee paused for a moment   
and saw the poker face slipping into place as it dawned to the other what he was   
aiming at. He checked the faces of the rest and found everything from open   
disbelieve to a curious look. "I'm putting in for a transfer."   
Ezra didn't say anything. His face had lost all color. Finally, he managed a   
strangled: "You… you can't do that…"  
"I must. There isn't any other choice." Chris shrugged, then got up and opened   
the door, as if he expected them to leave right now, without further question.   
"Vin, you are in charge when I go into vacation… I'll be back in two weeks, by   
that time my transfer should be through. The Judge will decide what happens to   
this team then."  
He could feel the shock creeping into his friends, realization about what he had   
been saying, the ultimate consequences.  
"Chris… you don't want to do this…" Buck said softly. "What would we do without   
you?"  
Larabee didn't reply on this, just looked from one to the other. Vin Tanner was   
not saying anything at all, just his eyes and face told a tell-tale story about   
what he was thinking. Nathan seemed to contemplate if their leader had lost his   
mind and Josiah's expression was a mix between sad and angry. Buck Wilmington's   
unspoken message was crystal clear: He wouldn't let Chris go through with this.   
Poor J.D. was too shocked to do anything but gape. And Ezra… well, Ezra was more   
or less unreadable, his poker face in place and his eyes almost looking   
disinterested. Nothing was betraying the turmoil that was going on inside him   
until he spoke up.  
"Since it was my person who caused this, it might be more appropriate that I put   
in for a transfer, not you, Mr Larabee."  
"Ezra, it wouldn't change anything," Chris smiled at the distraught man. "I knew   
what I was going for when I put this team together. You are the best at your   
jobs, and this team is the best that the ATF has… But…" he swallowed, unable to   
go on with this. Running out of a situation wasn't exactly his style.  
"But you think you no longer have it in you?" Josiah finished the sentence.  
"Chris… even the best horse is only as good as its rider," Nathan added with a   
smile and Larabee shot him one of his death glares. He knew what Jackson was   
implying, but he couldn't let it influence his decision.   
"Well, maybe a new rider will improve things," Chris retorted, but the humour   
had left his voice. "Out, everyone. I'm still waiting for some reports. Vin, I   
want you here in my office in thirty minutes."  
One by one, the members of team seven left the room until only Buck and Chris   
remained.  
"I know what you want to say, Buck, and the answer is no. I won't change my   
mind. Not this time," Larabee said without looking up from the paperwork on his   
desk.  
"Chris… you are making a mistake. Give yourself some time to think about it…"  
"I already thought about it," the blond haired man growled. "I can't put it   
aside as if nothing has happened. I've crossed a line. I shouldn't have lost it   
like that. I'm a team leader, for Pete's sake!"  
Buck sighed. He knew better than to reason with his long time friend now. Chris   
would come around sooner or later, he'd realize that running out on the team   
wouldn't help. Not him, and especially not the team. "You are a team leader,   
yes, and a damn good team leader!"   
Buck had raised his voice and it brought him a query look from his boss.   
"Listen… Just wait with that transfer request until you are back from your   
vacation. Please?"  
Wilmington put on his best begging puppy-dog expression that he usually just   
reserved to the ladies. Chris had to laugh. Trust good ol' Buck to safe the day.   
Well, he owed his old friend at least this much. "Okay… but don't put your hope   
too high."  
"If you really want a transfer after your vacation, I won't hold you back.   
Deal?"  
"Deal," he smiled a predatory smile. "And now, move your butt out of here and   
let me finish my work."  
  
  
The End? 


End file.
